At Liberty
by ceb
Summary: Butterflies awaken in her stomach upon his caress. Butterflies she swept up in a net months ago and pinned to a page of the past. His thumb lingers. CARBY
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer: They're not mine... they're each others :)_

_Thanks to: Tracey for beta-ing, Noods for battling out a title with me ;) and Maura for inspiring me with her little "earthquake" story on Ellen_

_Set: S10 immediately after Abby has handed over a dying baby Jake to his parents. _

_Summary: Butterflies awaken in her stomach upon his caress. Butterflies she swept up in a net months ago and pinned to a page of the past. His thumb lingers._

At Liberty

"_Do you ever think you'd rather be with me instead?_

_Or do you only think about me when it rains?"_

_Breathe_.

A vice like grip encircles her chest, pounds of pressure compressing her lungs to the size of baseballs. She blinks, sees his face engraved on her eyelids. His fragile fingers, ruby lips, porcelain skin.

_Breathe._

Salty tears sting as they meander across her flushed cheeks. He was a baby, just an innocent baby.

_Breathe._

Lead legs pound the tiled floor as she races toward the exit. Feels her ribs will splinter into a thousand shards. A naïve infant, an infant she was unable to save, who didn't have a chance. So like another child in her past whose existence she had denied.

_Breathe._

Heart racing she bursts through the double doors, desperate for the sweet release of salubrious rain.

Moments later, soaked to the bone Abby shuffles along the sidewalk to Ike's. She craves the comfort of coffee. Harsh lighting prompts rapid fire blinking, further teardrops squirt from their native spring. Wearily wobbling onto a stool she sits by the jukebox, catches the counter girl's eye and begs for her beverage. Hers is not the only attention she's attracted. _He's _there. Wide eyed he observes the scrub clad figure across from him. Her watery gaze catches his, their taciturn communication as deafening as ever. Sliding from his seat he steps towards her and positions himself opposite. She's crying. He flicks through the catalogue of memories in his mind, shooting back to the last time he saw her in tears. He realizes there _is_ no last time. Reaching out he takes her hand in his, strokes her fingers delicately, laces them between his own. A ghost of a smile haunts her lips. She feels no other man could offer her such wordless consolation. Knows no other ever will. The jukebox whirrs to life and Peaches and Herb begin to sing: his selection. With his free hand he swipes a stray tendril from her eyes before rubbing away a tear with his thumb. Butterflies awaken in her stomach upon his caress. Butterflies she swept up in a net months ago and pinned to a page of the past. His thumb lingers.

"Abby," she hears the yearning in his voice, longing for an explanation. His fingers trace the curve of her face, hesitate around her chin.

A light sparks above them, the drone of the refrigeration unit silences and instantaneously the room is plunged into an inky blackness.

Chaos abounds. Customers call out in confusion. Babies cry. Somewhere a glass shatters to smithereens. And under this blanket of darkness, she kisses him.

Lips yield, tongues surrender, arms wave white flags as they initiate their embrace. Familiarity bedecked in new clothes.

Seconds and light years later bulbs sputter overhead as breathlessly they part. The tornado-swept room illuminates once more. And there _she_ is, emerging from the bathroom, hands grazing her abdomen protectively. Her brown eyes meet his, a smile upon her lips.

"I thought we left the blackouts back in Kisangani," she jokes.

He nods distractedly.

Her gaze redirects. "You're John's friend, Abby, yes?"

Abby smiles mirthlessly in response, not trusting her swollen lips to move.

"John and I were just sharing some cake," Kem states, as if the power out never happened, "do come join us, there's plenty, even if I do eat like a horse these days."

She strides off to the table, as the others mechanically follow.

Moments pass and Abby politely sips at her coffee, declining numerous offers of gateau. Carter shuffles uncomfortably. The congolese woman babbles as she swallows forkfuls of food but Abby doesn't hear a word. Awkwardly she stands, bumbles an excuse about being needed back in the NICU and bolts. The pain in her chest is back. But this time she knows the rain will not wash it away.

Inside, he picks at crumbs whilst his girlfriend chatters. She fusses over his nonresponsiveness. He barely notices. And it is only then that he realizes he received no reason for Abby's tears.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback you gave me for the first chapter of this story. At the time I wrote it I didn't know if time and my commitments would allow any more chapters, but now I'm home for the summer and have a little more time on my hands. I hope you continue to enjoy this. The style is a poor imitation of that used by the immensely talented Jodi Picoult in her book "Plain Truth". Mad props to Tracey for her excellent ideas and comments upon proof reading. Oh, and I've borrowed a little from SATC and John Mayer so thanks to them too. I own nothing... unfortunately.

_Abby _

_Breathing heavily, I pad back across the road to County. The rain is slowing to a light drizzle, sporadic drops falling pitifully like tears. Pensively, my finger runs along my bottom lip. What was I thinking? Was I even thinking at all? _

_As I reach the NICU I spy Neela, who approaches with a quizzical expression. I hope it's not in response to the guilty flush of my own face. _

"_I thought you'd maybe left," she states softly. _

_Shaking my head, I respond, "I just went for coffee at Ike's". That's all I _intended _to have..._

"_I heard about what happened," Neela speaks._

_What?_

"_I'm sorry," she continues._

_The baby. She's talking about the baby._

_I smile gratefully, knowing it's not reaching my eyes._

"_Raad told me to tell you to go home."_

"_I still have a couple of hours left on shift," I reply._

_Neela stares. "I don't think it was a request."_

_But I can't leave now. If I go home to my empty apartment I'll while away the small hours overanalyzing what just happened. And so I decide to do what I do best: go into denial._

"_Tell Radd I'm staying," I announce forcefully before breezing forwards through the double doors._

_Neela's eye roll is all but audible._

"_Fine," she concedes to my stubbornness, "why don't you check the vents? We just had a power out and they're currently running on back up."_

_It's three days before I'm faced with the inevitable awkward conversation. And as Murphy's law dictates it's when I'm least prepared for it. I'm called down to the ER for a consult and I dutifully attend without too much trepidation. His schedule clearly states that he's taking the early shift today. It's four p.m. I'm safe. So when I step into exam two I'm somewhat taken aback to be met by his eyes upon mine. The bastard switched shifts._

_Once the twenty-six weeker is safely on his way upstairs, I duck into the lounge to finish up paper work, hoping he won't see me._

_He sees me._

_His gentle footfalls mirror my own and he takes up a coffee mug from the counter._

"_Busy shift, huh?" I voice, desperate to keep the conversation light._

_He's having none of it._

"_Abby," he speaks softly, causing my stomach to lurch for several reasons._

_Sighing, I tear my eyes from the chart and chance a glance at his face._

"_Are we going to talk about the power out?" he asks._

_Not if I can help it._

"_Yeah, umm... I'm sorry about that. I'm not sure what came over me."_

_But you kissed me back._

"_Are you okay?" he responds._

_The question seems misplaced and my expression clearly says so, as he continues, "You never explained why you were crying."_

"_Oh, we'd just lost a baby."_

"_I'm sorry."_

_A pensive silence washes over the room._

"_That's tough," he says sympathetically, "you know, if you ever need to talk..." _

_Nodding, I reply, "I know."_

_Smiling he walks towards the door, "I'll see you at eight."_

_What?_

_Off my look he explains, "I offered to help you study."_

_I remember, but I'd assumed that was firmly off the cards now. I'm so dazed that despite my prior actions he's still prepared to help me that I do the only thing I can._

"_Sure, eight o'clock."_

_The door swings shut and I'm alone with my thoughts once more._


	3. Chapter 3

She glances at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes. He always used to be so punctual. She ponders how many other changes there have been in him. Her eyes drift upwards, catch the ornamental butterfly, encased in its glass, hanging upon the plain wall. She smiles.

The doorbell rings and she glides over to meet him. Formalities are exchanged and she hands him a mug of tea. They settle down at the table to review the confusing anatomy of the abdomen. Yet, as she stares at the schematic image of celiac trunk branches before her, she contemplates that this has rapidly become the least complicated part of her life.

Time passes. Tea turns cold. Animated chatter floods the room as she dutifully answers the questions he poses. And more quickly than either would like, the midnight hour is upon them. He's _actually_ working the early shift and knows he should leave. She sees him succumbing to the first clutches of sleep and knows he shouldn't stay much longer. As he rises from the table she thanks him profusely. She didn't expect him to come after their last experience alone together. He'd still shoot the moon for her.

Pleasantries are exchanged and she passes his jacket causing their fingers to brush fleetingly. She inhales sharply. He grasps the door handle as tightly as though it was his lifeline. The door opens, he steps through and with a smile, he's gone.

The door closes and she exhales as she falls against its hard wood. And like a switch has been flicked, she knows in that instant why she kissed him in the darkness. She puddles to the floor and cradles her head in her hands. Abigail Lockhart is in love.

A sharp knocking startles her from the fetal-like position. The hammering becomes more persistent as she rises and throws open the door. Quizzically, she stares into his chocolate eyes. He gazes lasciviously back. Her breathing becomes rapid and shallow. He crosses the threshold. Nervously, she pushes tendrils of hair behind her ear. His gaze is so intense she fears she will crumble beneath it. He catches her. He _always_ catches her. In a heartbeat his lips make their familiar descent down to hers. And though her head is screaming at her to push him away, that the situation is wrong, that it can never be right, her heart is singing, lyrical ballads that will not be silenced. And so she kisses him back with all the ridiculous, inconvenient, all-consuming love that she feels. And he responds in kind.

Silhouettes dance against the wall, a black-and-white depiction of colourful complication. Moans escape her lips as butterfly kisses creep across porcelain skin. And soon a steady stream of clothing trickles its way into her bedroom. Shadows swim in a deep sea of blankets, rediscovering contours thought long forgotten. And for a few blissful hours, she's home.


	4. Chapter 4

_Abby_

_Pale winter sunshine seeps through the gap in the curtains and stings my unaccustomed eyes. Soft, rhythmic breathing stirs me. I turn my head towards the source of the sound to be greeted by a mess of brown hair upon the pillow. And it all comes flooding back. The taste of his lips. The warmth of his arms. The moans of his desire. A list soon to be embellished by the haste of his leaving. Guilty pleasure flushes my features. He shouldn't be here with me. He's not mine to lose. Delicately I trace an index finger along the line of his jaw, deep-set with sleep. His lips, full in the half-light, cry out to be kissed. I force myself to think on the woman with the round belly waiting at home for him and slowly my hand drops away, embarrassed by its actions. _

_Lifting his arm from around my waist I slip from beneath the sheets. I dress in silence, afraid of waking him and the inevitable conversation this will bring. Pulling on worn running sneakers, I feast my eyes upon him a moment longer. Then, snatching up key and wallet, I'm gone._

_Once outside the bitter morning air stings at my face. I reason it's discomfort I well deserve and continue forward along the sidewalk. My feet trek on autopilot, heading towards the river, before realizing that he could seek me out in a familiar haunt, for a conversation I'm ill prepared for. So, instead I change course and head for Grant park._

_My only companions are joggers, defying the frigid air with multitudes of lycra and pallid knees. Slipping onto a seat I gaze across at Buckingham fountain, shades of azure and cyan dancing beneath the early sunlight. Cradling the coffee I picked up on the way over I think back over last night's turn of events. He has a girlfriend. A _pregnant_ girlfriend. What was I thinking? And for that matter, what was _he_ thinking? Did it even mean anything to him? Or will he just amble home to the bed he shares with Kem? God I feel ill._

_Two o'clock rolls around and I find myself back in the NICU. For once the ward is unusually quiet which comes as welcome relief to most of the staff but I had been relying upon becoming absorbed by the world of medicine. _

_Neela finds me charting in the locker room and engages in somewhat poignant discourse._

"_Third year, my gross anatomy instructor. He was very skilled at prosecting the brachial plexus."_

"_You slept with your instructor?" I ask incredulously._

"_Dr. Gibson had a very tender way with cadavers," she responds. _

"_And you called him Dr. Gibson?"_

"_Only in bed," she replies impishly. "What about you?" she asks wide-eyed, "how long has it been?"_

_Almost a whole twelve hours..._

"_Not since Carter," I say diplomatically, averting my eyes._

_Her response surprises me._

"_I'm sorry."_

_I turn to face her, puzzlement flashing over my features._

"_I just thought that might be a sensitive subject, what with the baby..." her voice fades away, as if she's just uttered a profanity._

"_I'm fine," I reply curtly, turning towards the exit. Poor Neela, if she only knew the half of it._

_Twelve hours later I stumble towards my now, presumably, empty apartment. But what if he's still there waiting for me? Am I prepared for that eventuality? I have no idea what to say to him. Guilt is eating me from the inside out, tying my tongue in knots. _

_And what if he's not there? Perhaps he's decided to never mention this again, for this to never happen again. Can I handle that? _

_With great trepidation I step through the door. Silence. He's gone._

_Laying on the dining table is a folded note bearing my name. I pad over to it, pick it up, stare at it blankly... and then toss it into the trash. I don't want to hear it. _

_I change quickly, longing for the sanctity that sleep affords, and clamber to the bed. The sheets hold his scent, the sole reminder of his presence here. I lift one with the intent of banishing it to the laundry basket, but instead I find myself inhaling it in deeply. Crawling beneath the covers, the fragrance wraps around me, almost as if he's enveloping me once more. Almost. And there in the darkness, alone, the tears fall like rain._


	5. Chapter 5

Morning dawns, pale flecks of sunlight spattering across the sleepy city. The bed is already vacant, the tell-tale sign of the morning shift. Yawning, she hastily fills her growling stomach with life-sustaining java. And after pulling a comb through tangled tresses she's ready to face the day. Well, physically at least.

For the first day of a new rotation, the time passes without incident, she chalks this up to the intimate knowledge she already has of the floor. With a new-found confidence she effortlessly assists and comforts, perfectly at ease. Before long she's called to the ER for her first consult and she potters downstairs.

Sliding through the doors to trauma one she approaches the patient.

"You rang?"

Kovac looks up from his chart and beams in her direction.

"You're in OB now?"

"It's like I never left."

He smiles serenely and hands her the chart.

"This is Ms Lopez, twenty-eight weeks pregnant, she fell in the mall and has been experiencing some discomfort since."

Twenty minutes and a diagnosis of Brackston-Hicks later, Abby heads back out to admit. But safe passage between the desk and herself is blocked by a more familiar pregnant woman, and Abby decides that perhaps now is time for a much needed coffee break.

"Abby," Kem calls.

One of the few french words in Abby's vernacular comes to mind upon hearing the Congolese beauty. _Merde. _

"Hi Kem," she replies, a too-bright smile fixed firmly upon her lips. Guilt claws at her stomach like an ill-trained cat. Her heart goes into v-tach. Or at least it feels like it does. She ponders upon how she would rather converse with anyone other than the person before her at this moment.

"John," the other woman cries, directing her attention behind her.

And Abby realizes the error of her previous ruminance. This time the word comes in her native tongue. _Shit._

Carter lifts his head up from a chart at his girlfriend's call. After a second of startled eye contact, he painfully avoids Abby's gaze.

"John!" Kem repeats with childlike exuberance.

Abby can't remember feeling more nauseated.

"Why don't you take Abby with you?"

His head lifts up and she sees her own shame reflected in his eyes.

At his silence, Kem continues, "John has a benefit to attend this evening. I was going with him but I have to return home immediately. My colleagues have begun negotiations with a drug company and I need to be there. Why don't you accompany John tonight?"

The cat sinks its talons into her pyloric sphincter.

"I... I'm..." _washing my hair? Having my nails done? Banging my brains out with somebody else's better half?_

"Sure, why not?" she finds herself responding.

Kem looks ecstatic, Carter seems surprised, Abby feels ill.

He recovers fastest. "So, pick you up at eight?"


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: The Show Must Go On_

_Yes. Indeed. I am a terrible person. It is a VERY long time since I last updated this story. But in my defence I've been off learning about real medicine and have had exams and things. It's been so long in fact that now I'm on my OBGYN rotation just like Abby was when I left her. This chapter has actually been sitting on my hard drive for a very long time but was in desperate need of editing. Well, I finally got around to it. And the next chapter is part way done. I've received very kind reviews so thank you to all of you who wrote them and to those who begged for more I hope it was worth it. In case you've forgotten what was going on (heck I had to go re-read it)..._

_Previously on ER:_

_Abby runs into Doc Magoo's crying after the loss of baby Jake in the NICU (NB this is set during season ten... so Abby never shacked back up with Luka and became pregnant herself... and in my story I guarantee you that will never happen). Carter happens upon her and as the lights go out they kiss. VeryPregnantKem appears as the light go up leaving a guilt ridden Abby to slink back to the hospital. A few days later Carter goes round to Abby's to help her study anatomy... and he does... Abby awakens the next morning wracked with guilt and runs away before he can wake up. When she returns later to an empty apartment she finally wakes up and smells the coffee and realizes that she's been in love with him all along. Next shift Abby bumps into the two people she leasts wants to see and Kem, blind to the tension between them, insists that Abby accompany Carter to a charity event that evening. Abby is so stunned that she can't invent an excuse quickly enough and she accepts. _

_On with the show..._

_Abby_

_Eight o'clock rolls around and I make the finishing touches to my hair whilst waiting for Carter. Deja vu anoints the air and my mind is transported back to our "dinosaurs and dancing" evening many moons ago. Back then things were simpler. I was seeing Luka and, despite the butterflies in my stomach that night, Carter was just a friend. Things change. Now the ball is in his court. And that ball is pretty and pregnant and perfect. I hate this dance we do. I don't know the steps. I've never known the steps._

_Humming tunelessly along to the radio I carefully dab at my lipstick before scrutinizing my appearance in the mirror. I look like an imposter in my own home. The fabric of the dress feels foreign. It's a strapless black and white number which has hung, forgotten, in the back of the closet for over a year. I bought it on sale in preparation for the next meeting of the Carter clan but a week later Carter's grandmother passed away and we fell apart at the seams._

_Sighing I perch on the edge of the couch. Why did I agree to this charade? Why was I incapable of concocting a suitable excuse? Was it because I can't lie to Kem's face, only behind her back? Or perhaps, more worryingly, I'm pleased of the excuse to spend time alone with him, to dig myself in deeper than I already am? God help me; I'm a masochist._

_He arrives right on time and bumbles a greeting. We make no attempt at eye contact. Neither of us know the correct thing to say. After all, the last time he was inside my apartment, he woke alone. I'm not sure that there _is _a right thing to say. But there appears to be a mutual understanding between us that we won't mention the events of his last visit and the tension disperses as we head to the car._

_The Art Institute seems larger than I remember. The bronze lions stand as proud sentinels guarding the entrance from would-be gatecrashers. The usually ubiquitous photographer appears to have been foregone and I entertain the hope that tonight really won't be "that big of a deal"._

_Once inside the building, I glance around for a familiar face and quickly meet the eyes of Jack Carter. His astonishment upon seeing me is evident and he walks over to us smiling. _

"_Abby, what a pleasant surprise!"_

_He leans over and kisses my cheek gently. I note the rapid-fire exchange of glances between his son and his self seeking explanation for my presence. _

"_Kem couldn't make it tonight," John explains delicately, "so Abby obligingly agreed to join me." With this comment he glances at me appreciatively and his eyes meet mine for the first time this evening. _

_Jack seems almost disappointed at this statement. Perhaps he was hoping to become better acquainted with his son's girlfriend tonight._

"_How is Kem?" he asks with a disinterested tone._

_Perhaps not._

"_She's doing well," John replies but makes no attempt to further the conversation. This topic is clearly not their favourite line of discussion. _

"_Good," Jack replies shortly before turning his attention back to me._

"_It really is lovely to see you again Abby. I hope you have a wonderful evening." And with that he nods his leave and disappears into the crowd._

_With John's father's comforting silhouette retreating into the distance I realize that Carter and I are now alone in a crowded room. Fearing the earlier awkwardness will whitewash us once more I make a suggestion._

"_Shall we dance?"_

_Moments later a slightly bemused Carter is leading me to the floor. I hate dancing. Okay so that's strictly not true,but it's my story and I'm sticking to it. Before formal functions I always used to make John promise not to make me dance. It's no wonder my apparent new-found enthusiasm for the art is perplexing him. _

_Soon we're twirling through the madness of the bustling room. Our eyes lock as we waltz around the floor. His right hand is enlaced with mine whilst his left caresses the small of my back. My cheek begins to flush._

_The music plays on: the tango, rumba, foxtrot; my feet fall in time with his. John taught me well. With every new melody we hold each other a little more tightly, dance a little more closely, move a little more intimately. The cha cha cadences for the musicians to break between sets leaving us held in a warm embrace. Recovering, I hastily suggest that we head towards the bar. I _have _to get off this dance floor._

_Five minutes later we've spirited ourselves away to a secluded corner to sip at our club sodas. We ran into Jack at the bar who complimented our steps with a twinkle in his eye but now he's been swallowed by the shadows and we are alone once more. We drink rapidly parched from the exertion and anxious to fill any uncomfortable silence. Soon the beverages can be milked no longer and we are forced to resort to small talk._

"_When did you become such a good dancer?" he teases gently._

_I smile coyly. "I had a great teacher."_

"_True. How could I forget?" He puffs up his chest self-importantly which elicits a chuckle from me._

_This is good. The earlier tension has dispelled. I find myself feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time. I look down and am startled to find that our fingers have interwoven themselves._

_The musicians have refilled their glasses and the next set begins. A young male singer steps forward and begins a familiar tune. Carter spins me gently before pulling his free arm around me and we dance slowly in this shy spot far from the publicity of the dance floor. I gravitate closer to his warmth relaxing in his enveloping arms. His hands link at the bottom of my back. _

_Intoxicated by intimacy our dancing has slowed almost to a stop. Our eyes lock and our breath intermingles as the lyric lines wash over us. Spellbound I stand up on tiptoes inching closer to him. And in a heartbeat he catches my lips with his own. I melt against him whilst he kisses me as if it's the first time we've kissed each other. As if might be the last. His hands caress my bare shoulders exciting every nerve ending and we dance on with our mouths._

_When we eventually surface he looks down at me, wet eyes glistening in the low-light, and breathes seductively, "I'll go call for a cab."_


End file.
